


going out to make a change

by herax



Series: Bracca AU [2]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hurt Cal Kestis, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax/pseuds/herax
Summary: While drinking with coworkers on Bracca, Cal gets an unwelcome visit from a prior acquaintance.
Relationships: Cal Kestis & Prauf
Series: Bracca AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942612
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	going out to make a change

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly before the start of the game and a follow up to this fic. You don’t need to read that one first though - all key plotpoints are recapped in this one.
> 
> For filo <333

“I wouldn’t call it a fall exactly. Definitely more of a controlled descent.”

Laughter ripples around the table and Cal grins too as he takes a sip of his drink. He’d seen Tabbers’ attempt at being a rigger first-hand; ‘controlled descent’ is a very generous interpretation. 

“Wow, thanks for the support,” Tabbers says, smiling even as he shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know how riggers do it. Just looking off the edge of that ship made my stomach flip.”

He shudders at the memory, drawing more chuckles from the group. There are only five of the crew in the cantina this evening but Tabbers seems to talk enough for ten people as he relays his recent trials and tribulations.

“You’re an idiot,” Lyka says, elbowing Tabbers in the side. “How about you leave the rigging to the professionals in future?”

“Oh, gladly.” He flashes Cal a grin and says with feigned magnanimity, “Feel free to dangle off wrecks as much as you please.”

“Thanks,” Cal says, raising his mug. “Appreciate it.”

He knows rigging isn’t a popular job — it’s seen as risky even among the most hardened scrappers — but after spending years crawling under shuddering machinery to unpick jams, clambering out in the open air is more freeing than terrifying.

Beside, compared to his previous employment at the Dalacond yard, a job where he gets to keep his clothes on is a definite improvement.

Across the table, Testren launches into a familiar complaint about the temporary rigger who was assigned to their crew last week and Cal allows himself to zone out for a moment as he glances around the cantina. It’s packed full with the post-shift rush of scrappers needing a drink after a long day but when Cal scans the crowd out of habit, he freezes when his gaze lands on a familiar human leaning against the bar.

It’s been months since he left the Dalacond scrap yard, smuggled out by Prauf in a train full of supplies. He’s slowly been getting comfortable at the Vichas yard — making friends, learning the ropes, making his own decisions about what he does with his free time — but at the sight of Dace here, in his yard, the memories come flooding back.

There are plenty of unpleasant ones to choose from, years of bullying and beatings at Dace’s hands from the day Cal crashed onto Bracca to the time when he got old enough to catch the overseer’s attention, but it’s their last meeting that sticks in Cal’s brain. 

He replays it often enough in his nightmares, Dace and his men hauling Cal from his bed, stripping him down, and bending him over a table to take what they’d been denied, and he feels nausea rise at the thought of what would’ve happened to him without Prauf’s intervention.

The chair legs clatter against the floor as he pushes himself quickly to his feet.

“Hey!” Testren calls with a smile. “Am I boring you here, Cal?”

“No, no, I-” He swallows hard as his gaze darts between Testren at the table and Dace at the bar. “Bathroom break. I’ll be right back.”

He moves quickly away from the table, hoping Dace hasn’t seen him with his coworkers — _friends?_ — and slips his way through the crowded cantina to the bathroom. His heart is pounding as he leans over the sink and he splashes cold water on his face to try to calm himself down. 

He comes up with a plan: feign sickness, get back to the safety of his room, hope that Dace is only here for a short visit. 

It isn’t his best effort but as he squares his shoulders and prepares to head back out, he figures any plan is better than no plan.

That plan immediately fails when he opens the door to find Dace leaning against the wall outside.

Even after months in the relative safety of the Vichas yard, the impulse to flee is still strong, but he stands his ground as Dace flashes him a grin. “Well, hey there, kid. Not avoiding me, are you?”

Cal can’t keep from lowering his eyes, curling in on himself out of instinct in an attempt to make himself less of a target. While it might have worked when he was a scared kid amid a raucous crew of scrappers, it’s far less effective now and he tries to keep the fear out of his voice when he says, “What are you doing here, Dace?”

Dace shrugs. “Got sent here to pick up some parts. Figured I’d pay a visit to my favorite runaway.” 

He takes a step closer and Cal quickly moves to the side to stay out of reach, backing away from the open space of the cantina. Dace’s smile only widens and he advances again until Cal’s back hits the wall at the end of the hallway. 

“That’s no way to say hello,” Dace chides. “Not after I came all this way to see you.”

Cal shakes his head. “Just leave me alone.”

It comes out as more of a plea than an order and Dace just laughs as he moves into Cal’s space. “Don’t look so worried, kid. I just want to catch up. See how you’re doing.”

“Better than I was with you.”

Cal doesn’t know who’s more surprised by his defiance, Dace or himself, but somehow it doesn’t come as a surprise when Dace backhands him hard across the face in response. 

Cal stumbles, wincing as he raises his hand to his cheek. All of a sudden he’s a kid again, facing Dace’s casual anger for every perceived failing. 

“Glad to see you’re grateful for me taking you in,” Dace drawls. “Guess me and the boys didn’t do a good enough job teaching you some manners.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Cal grits out. His face aches but he summons up as much courage as he can when he lowers his hand and meets Dace’s eyes. “If you’re going to beat me up, just do it. I’m glad I left — I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

That earns him another blow, this time to his stomach, but Dace slams him back against the wall when Cal tries to double over in pain. 

“Come on, kid,” Dace says, and the feigned sympathy in his tone makes Cal feel sick. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” He rests a hand on Cal’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “I just needed to keep you in line. It was for your own good, trust me.”

“My own good,” Cal echoes, incredulous. “You took your belt to me when I was too sick to work. How was that for my own good?”

Dace’s shrug is unrepentant. “Gotta learn to prioritise, kid. You didn’t miss work again, did you?”

Cal grits his teeth and doesn’t answer. 

Dace doesn’t seem to care as he gives Cal’s shoulder another squeeze. “Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you.” His gaze drops lower down Cal’s body. “The travel stipend didn’t exactly include money for hookers but I figured you’d do it for free. For old times’ sake and all that.”

Cal’s eyes go wide. The memories of the attempted assault are still fresh but he pushes them away as he spits, “Fuck you.”

Dace chuckles. “I didn’t know whores were allowed to say no.”

“I’m a rigger now,” Cal snaps. “But even if I wasn’t, there’s no way I’d sleep with you.”

He expects another punch, maybe even for Dace to try to force himself on him right there in the hallway, but he blinks when Dace just smirks. 

“Oh, right,” Dace says, with feigned recollection. “I forgot you’d changed careers. New yard, new job, new crew…” He nods in the direction of the main room of the cantina. “I saw you with your friends back there. I recognise the big abednedo but what about the others, hmm? How many of them know how you used to earn a living?”

Panic spikes through Cal at the thought. It must show on his face since Dace’s smirk broadens into a grin as he taunts, “You been keeping secrets from them, kid?”

“I- It doesn’t matter,” Cal stammers. “They don’t need to know.”

“How about we let them make that decision for themselves?” Dace says, lowering his hand from the wall and taking a half-step back. “I’ll go say hello-”

“No!”

Cal reaches for him, grabbing his arm before he can turn back down the corridor. “Stay away from them.”

From the grin on Dace’s lips, he was expecting that response.

“Or what?” he taunts. “You gonna fight me, kid? I don’t remember that going so well for you last time.”

Cal swallows hard. He was outnumbered last time, grabbed in the middle of the night by Dace and his cronies, and while the odds are better this time, they still aren’t in his favour. For a moment he wishes he had his lightsaber with him, wishes he could cut Dace down right there, but the voice of Master Tapal in the back of his mind chides him for desiring revenge over self-preservation. 

“If I have to,” Cal says. He stands as tall as he can and tries not to think about how much bigger Dace is. “This has nothing to do with them. I- I’m a scrapper here, not- not a-”

The word sticks in his throat but Dace seems to take pleasure in finishing the sentence for him, “Whore? Slut who’ll get on his knees for a handful of credits?” His gaze lingers on Cal’s mouth as he says, “I’m just calling it like it is. But hey, if you’d rather I keep it to myself, I think I can be persuaded.”

Cal’s cheeks heat with shame. He knows what Dace’s answer is going to be even as he asks, “What do you want?”

He flinches but doesn’t pull away when Dace’s hand comes up to cup his jaw. His thumb rests against Cal’s lips, not quite pushing inside, and Cal can’t hide his shudder at the familiar look of want in Dace’s eyes. 

“I wanna have a good time,” Dace says. “You think you can manage that, kid? Or should I get another drink and go chat to your new friends out there?”

“No,” Cal says quickly. “No, I’ll- Whatever you want.” 

It’s familiar, if not easy, to slip back into the mindset that he worked so hard to learn at Dalacond. He’s already starting to feel numb as he steps back and opens the door to the cantina’s supply closet and he swallows down his rising nausea when Dace chuckles and shoves him roughly inside. 

It’s not the most comfortable location Cal’s been fucked in but it’s far from the worst. There’s plenty of room for both of them between the cluttered shelves lining the walls but Cal has to turn his head to avoid knocking against a box of cleaning supplies when Dace pushes him face first against the shelves. 

He gropes Cal’s ass through the worn fabric of his uniform and Cal squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to detach himself from what’s happening when Dace’s greedy hands move around to cup him through the front of his pants.

Dace’s breath is hot against the back of Cal’s neck as he murmurs, “I knew it wouldn’t take much to get you here. Once a slut, always a slut, right?”

Cal’s too busy keeping his breathing steady to answer but he cries out when Dace grabs his hair, pulling his head back sharply. “That was a question, whore.”

“Yes,” Cal gasps but winces when Dace’s grip just tightens.

“Yes, what?”

He’s grateful that Dace is behind him and can’t see the tears building in his eyes when he says, “Yes, sir.”

Dace laughs and Cal sags against the shelves when he lets go of his hair. Dace steps back, taking his hands off Cal for a moment, and Cal feels cold and filthy when he hears the jangle of Dace’s belt opening.

“On your knees,” Dace orders over the sound of his zipper opening. “I’ve been thinking about that mouth of yours the whole ride over here.”

Cal’s stomach almost rebels at the thought. He’s done this more times than he can count, providing an obedient service on demand, but somehow it’s worse now that he’s doing it of his own accord, instead of with the overseer’s threats hanging over him. 

He hears the distant laughter of the cantina’s patrons as he turns around but before he can sink to his knees, he picks out the sound of Prauf’s laugh among them. He catches Tabbers’ chuckle too, and Lyka’s, and Testren’s, clear enough that he doesn’t know whether it’s his hearing or his brain which is filling in the blanks, and even as a fresh wave of shame engulfs him, he finds himself remaining upright.

In front of him, Dace arches an eyebrow, already rubbing himself through his half-open pants. “You deaf or something? On your knees, whore.”

“No.”

Confusion gives way to fury in Dace’s eyes but Cal pushes him away before he can even close his pants, let alone hit him. “I’m not doing this. Not again and sure as hell not with you.”

Dace stumbles, zipping himself up then moving in again. “The fuck is wrong with you? What happening to doing whatever I wanted, huh?”

“A mistake,” Cal says firmly. “This isn’t Dalacond. I don’t work for you anymore.”

“You little-”

It’s a struggle to not to cower back when Dace grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him forward but Cal holds his gaze as Dace snarls, “You really want me to go out there and tell all your new friends about how you spread your legs for half the yard back at Dalacond?”

“No,” Cal says. “But if this is the alternative, then fine. Go tell them how many people I slept with, but tell them I had no choice about any of it. Tell them how the overseer threatened to cut out my tongue if I didn’t do what he told me. Tell them how my safety, my meals, my clothes, even the roof over my head depended on me satisfying his guests.” 

He shoves Dace back, wrenching free of his grip as he spits, “Tell them how I hated every fucking second and will never, _never_ let someone use me like that again.”

Dace blinks, shell-shocked at the outburst, and Cal takes advantage of his reaction to push past him. He exhales in relief when he gets the door open, the raucous noise from the bar replacing the heavy quietness of the closet, and he takes a breath of cool air as he hurries back out into the hallway on unsteady legs.

Dace follows, his shock now giving way to anger, and the air leaves Cal’s lungs in a rush when Dace slams him against the wall again. It’s followed by a punch to Cal’s chest that drops him to his knees and Dace looms over him as he snarls, “Fuckin’ cocktease.”

Any retort is cut off when Dace’s boot collides with his stomach and Cal doubles over, coughing, as Dace raises his fist to deliver another punch.

He’s interrupted by a voice from down the hallway before it can land. “Cal? You still out here, man?”

There’s a pause as the interloper walks near enough to see what’s happening in the dimly-lit corridor and this time there’s panicked concern in his voice as he yells, “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?”

Footsteps thump towards them and Cal looks up in surprise to see Tabbers shove Dace back away from him. He’s not the biggest guy, only an inch or two taller than Cal, but that doesn’t seem to bother him as he inserts himself between Dace and Cal and pokes Dace firmly in the chest. “I don’t know who the hell you are but how about you fuck off and leave my buddy here alone.”

Dace sneers at him, evidently not backing down from the prospect of a fight, but Cal jumps when Tabbers hollers back to the cantina, “Marci! I think you’re gonna need that hittin’ stick of yours.”

A droid head appears around the doorway, eyes flickering red as she scans the scene, and Dace steps back, hands raised. “No need to get excited. I was just leaving.” His lips curve in a sneer as he looks down at Cal. “The slut’s all yours.”

Cal lowers his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat at the comment, but Dace doesn’t say anything further as he stalks away down the hallway and back out into the cantina. 

Cal’s ribs ache and he’s grateful for Tabbers’ support as he helps him back up to his feet.

“What an asshole,” Tabbers mutters, fixing Cal’s hair as he checks him over for injuries. “You okay, kid? You know that guy?”

Cal shakes his head. “Just some drunk looking for a fight,” he lies. “No big deal.”

There’s concern in Tabbers’ eyes as he reaches out to squeeze Cal’s shoulder. “I know you’re big on not causing trouble but you gotta learn to stand up for yourself, kid.”

Cal smiles a little at that, his tirade in the closet fresh in his mind. “I’ll work on it.”

“Or hell, just call for backup if you’re in trouble,” Tabbers continues. “You know we’d come running. And not just because Testren loves a fight.”

He’s right. 

It feels strange to admit, even to himself and even in respect of something as minor as a beating in a bar, but he knows Tabbers and the rest of the crew would help him if it came to it. He’s under no illusions of keeping that loyalty if they found out about his past, either on Dalacond or as a Jedi, but even conditional support is more than he’s had for years. 

“I know,” he says quietly, reassured by the truth of it. “I’ll shout for help next time, I promise.”

“Good,” Tabbers says. He gives his shoulder another squeeze and meets Cal’s eyes. “We gotta look out for each other in this hellhole, right?”

Cal smiles. “Right.”

He gets a pat on the cheek in response, with a level of coordination that suggests the evening’s alcohol has definitely set in, and his smile widens when Tabbers steps back with a yawn. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now I need to go take a leak but you go make sure Lyka gets the next round in and doesn’t try to pawn it off on Prauf again like the cheap bastard she is.”

Cal gives him a teasing salute. “On it.”

Tabbers sways slightly as he turns on his heel and makes a beeline for the bathroom, and Cal waits for him to depart before he heads back to rejoin the group in the cantina. 

As expected, Lyka is already squabbling with Prauf about whose turn it is to get the drinks and Cal smiles as he takes a seat and joins Prauf’s side of the argument. Dace is nowhere to be seen and while shame still lurks at the back of his mind, Cal can’t help but feel like he made the right choice.

He has a new life now, away from Dalacond and Dace, and although it’s not what he pictured when he was a kid, he figures it’s about as good as a failed Padawan could ever hope for.


End file.
